


Halcyon - a Demi-Troubles sequel

by StrawbebbieFAH



Category: FAH - Fandom, foil arms and hog
Genre: Demigods, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, OT3, RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawbebbieFAH/pseuds/StrawbebbieFAH
Summary: Eight years after the events of demi-troubles the three demi-gods run into some real trouble.After all, stories want to be told.Featuring: greek gods, fluff, angst and a healthy dose of triple demi-troubles
Comments: 8
Kudos: 2





	Halcyon - a Demi-Troubles sequel

**Author's Note:**

> Since Demi-Troubles got such a lovely reception and I quite enjoyed writing it, I have begun to cook up a sequel.  
> This one will have a few references to smut, and maybe a heavier make out or two, so just to be on the safe side I have put the rating as explicit.  
> I also decided to try out a non-linear structure for this one.  
> There will be some mystery, some suspense and a tad more angst than in Demi-Troubles...  
> I'll try and update semi-regularly, at least once or twice a month.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Now_

1

»Conor is gone!«

»Flango, take a deep breath. What do you mean, he's gone?«, Finegan was glad he had decided to leave his office and answer the call outside.

His friend sounded like he was in serious distress.

»Just get here asap.«

»I can't, I got a meeting at-«

»Please, Finegan.« The gravity of the situation started to settle in when he heard Flanagan go quiet, sounding so much younger now than his thirty years.

»Something is wrong, seriously wrong and I'm scared.«

»'kay.« His boss would have a field day. Fine, he should then. Finegan would come up with a sufficient excuse.

»I'll be there as soon as I can.«

Flanagan was quiet for a moment. Then he only said one word. It was enough.

»Thanks.«

At first glance nothing was off when he arrived at the apartment complex Conor lived in.

Flanagan was pacing back and forth at the front door, only stopping when he spotted Finegan.

He looked like hell.

»I'm sorry«, he said, digging his hands into his pockets. »I didn't know who else to call.«

»Did you call him?«

»Yes.« Flanagan pulled out a cell phone. It was Conor's. »He must've left it.«

They took the stairs.

The place seemed quiet and undisturbed, innocent and peaceful.

Finegan would have almost expected Conor to sit on the couch playing some computer game.

But even though everything looked to be in order, it didn't feel that way.

There was a falseness to it, as if it had been reconstructed by someone who only had a detailed description to go off of.

It felt empty.

Lifeless.

Even though he wanted to go with his brain on this, tell himself that maybe Conor had just gone for a quick trip down to the shops or maybe a walk and would waltz back inside any moment now, he knew Flanagan was right.

Conor was gone.

»I found this on the floor«, Flanagan said, pulling Finegan out of his thoughts.

He held up a small flower blossom, blue with five petals.

It looked vaguely familiar, but Finegan couldn't pinpoint where he had seen it before.

Nevertheless, it was the only thing they had to go off of trying to figure out what happened to their friend.

He looked up and saw Flanagan standing in the middle of the room, motionless.

»What are you not telling me?«, he asked, turning his attention away from the flower and towards his friend.

»We had a fight last night.« Flanagan sounded distant. Void.

»He said some things. I said some things. And then I left. I should have been there for him. I should have stayed and I didn't. This is my fault.«

»No«, Finegan shook his head, crossing the room until he was close enough to touch his friend, offer the physical comfort Flanagan needed.

The gears in his head were still turning, pieces slotting together, forming the answer to what had happened here.

Flanagan was still staring off into the middle distance, like he was reliving the fight he had had the day before.

»If I had stayed he wouldn't have disappeared.«

Finegan wrapped his arms around Flanagan, pulling him in.

»No, you couldn't have done anything.«

Finegan could feel the answer as to what had happened to Conor settling in his bones like lead.

Because he had finally remembered what flower it was.

Larkspur.

They were dealing with gods.

  
  


_Before_

12

It's Sunday and they have nowhere else to be. The world outside is grey and rainy and the two of them are sitting at the kitchen table in amicable silence.

Finegan is nibbling on a piece of toast while Flanagan is sipping a tea and watching the world through the window.

Conor comes padding into the kitchen, wearing an oversized t-shirt that hangs loosely off his lanky frame and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

There's hickeys on his throat and collarbones, his hair an absolute mess and he looks, well... properly fucked out from last night. And happy.

He looks happy.

»'ning«, he mumbles, making his way over to the kettle with a pit stop at the kitchen table to press a kiss into Flanagan's hair and rub Finegan's shoulder.

»Morning sleepy head«, Finegan says around his toast. »How're you feeling?«

»Sore.« The answer is accompanied by a smile. »Feels nice.«

Flanagan smirkes into his mug.

It has been five months since the weekend in Killadoon and, in true oreo fashion, they have stuck together.

They all still have their own places, though it had taken less than two weeks for each of them to have their own personal toothbrushes lying around somewhere in every apartment.

Shirts and hoodies started migrating around week five and by the end of December Finegan found out Flanagan had begun filling up his pantry with snacks he liked munching on whenever he had another bout of insomnia.

Weekends were generally spent at one of their places, though more often than not they end up being at Conor's, mainly for two reasons.

A lack of roommates (Flanagan's roommate Amanda is nice, but still) and the lack of trains in close proximity (Finegan had stopped noticing them at this point, but the other two kept being woken up by the DART rattling past).

Somewhere between quickies in the dressing room and Taco Tuesday movie nights they have become almost domestic.

None of them mind.

Finegan is done with his toast and gets up to wrap his arms around Conor from behind, who is leaning against the counter and watching the kettle with half closed eyes.

»You know a watched kettle never boils«, he says, standing up straighter so he can rest his chin on Conor's shoulder.

»Pot«, Conor corrects him, leaning back into Finegan.

»Nah, I'm pretty sure it's a kettle«, Flanagan pipes up from the table.

»You suck«, Conor mutters without any bite.

»And I swallow«, Flanagan sips his tea without even batting an eye.

Conor snorts. Finegan presses a kiss to his shoulder.

Flanagan looks at both of them with an expression they have seen more and more over the last weeks.

They all know what it means.

None of them have said it yet.

For now it is nothing more than a quiet unspoken understanding between the three of them.

They're falling in love.

They have migrated to the couch, Finegan reading a book and playing with Conor's hair, who is napping with his head pillowed in Finegan's lap, when Flanagan gets back from his grocery run.

After dropping the bags off in the kitchen he makes his way straight to the couch.

»Your turn, Fingo.«

Out of the three of them Finegan is arguably the best cook.

»Scooch!«, Flanagan gently kicks his foot so he can take over the spot on the couch.

Once Finegan has disappeared into the kitchen Conor sits up.

»Are you okay?«

»Yeah«, Flanagan defaults. »Why?«

»Nothing, really.« There is a loose thread at the hem of his shirt that draws Conor's attention now. »It's just... You seem a bit distant lately. I didn't want to bring it up in front of Fingo in case you don't want to talk about it, but...«

He shrugs.

Flanagan watches his fingers, skilled and agile, twisting the loose thread, again and again, and tries to figure out how to say what's on his mind.

He knows what these fingers feel like, touching him, holding him, inside of him.

Knows Conor would accept it if he says he doesn't want to talk about it.

»I still can't control it«, he finally says.

Conor stops fidgeting for a second.

»The time thing?«

»Yeah.« A pause. »I keep... slowing things down or speeding them up more than should be possible. And I don't know how. And that scares me.«

Conor lets go of the thread and puts his hand on Flanagan's knee instead.

»What if Persephone is right? What if I break time or get lost one day? And you can't find me?«

»Then we’ll keep searching until we do.«

Conor sounds so nonchalant, as if he didn't just say I love you without saying it. No, not I love you. More than that. _We_.

Flanagan kisses him, because he has learned to say I love you too without using those words himself, but draws back before they can deepen the kiss, resting his forehead against Conor's.

»I don't want anything to do with my powers because they're my father's.«

The admission feels like sandpaper in his throat.

»But this is getting dangerous.«

Conor doesn't say anything, just lets him talk.

»I lost an hour the other day. Ran through my fingers like sand. And then moments with you... they last so much longer.«

He can feel Conor's hand on his neck, grounding him.

»I don't know how much you notice. I want them to last so they do. What if I get us trapped? Because I can't control what I do?«

»We'll figure it out.«

»I need help.«

»We'll help you.«

»From a proper god. I think.«

If Conor is hurt by this rejection he doesn't show it. »Then we will ask Persephone.«

Finegan pokes his head in from the kitchen and the question if they want their potatoes pre-peeled or not dies on his lips when he sees them on the couch, notices the air of melancholy.

He simply walks over and sinks to his knees to wrap his arms around them both.

  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments absolutely make my day ;)  
> Thank you for reading <3


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